


To Learn How To Dance

by SupremeMasterOverlordKhurro



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Ballroom Dancing, Daddy Issues, Dancing, F/M, Fabulous, Fluff, GREAT THINGS, Lotor (Voltron) Being an Asshole, Lotor is good, Lotor is perfect, Lotors hair is fabulous, Mommy Issues, Past, Princes & Princesses, Romance, Space Gays, Voltron, i support, prince lotor - Freeform, season 5, space
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:48:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13854237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SupremeMasterOverlordKhurro/pseuds/SupremeMasterOverlordKhurro
Summary: Allura was groomed as a princess. Lotor was trained as a conqueror. Once's the princess of an extinct people, the other the emperor of a divided empire. Leading an empire quires more than just diplomacy though, and it will take more than just a declaration of peace to sooth a hatred that has been building up for 10,000 years. But maybe he can still learn.





	1. Son of Mine be Brave

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Voltron.   
> I wish I had hair like Lotor.   
> And I wish I didn't ship this as much as I do.
> 
> Next chapter will be present-day, and then if I decide to continue it, the 3rd will be in the past again. So back and forth like that.   
> Other chapters will be longer. This is more of a prologue?

When Lotor was born, Honerva had a period of time when the corruption of the Quintessence wasn’t poisoning her mind. The screaming of a baby, her son, had brought back a sliver of sanity. He was a sickly baby, reflecting the problems of her pregnancy. Everytime she nursed him, he would become sick and spend hours screaming in pain and discomfort. She wasn’t sure how long he would live, since he was unable to keep any food down. She tried treating him with Quintessence, but that only made things worse. As a last resort, she tried a formula milk, and for the first time, she was able to feed him and he was able to keep it down and sleep for several hours. There was no crying in pain, no whimpering. Just contentment. It was the first night in months, since she had gotten pregnant, that both her and Lotor slept through the night. 

She spent the next few days studying the differences in the formula compared to her own and discovered the only difference was the formula had no quintessence it it. It didn’t take much after that to realize that Lotor’s sickness, the difficulties during the pregnancies, was all because of the quintessence. How it made him sick but healed others, she didn’t know. But she began to slowly remove it from his room, carefully extract it from any food. When he was stronger, she tried to add a little bit to his diet, to see if he could build an immunity. But no, every time they tried, he would get sick again. 

As he got older and Zarkon demanded that Lotor begin training, Honevra began to drift away. Haggar became dominate again, though a small part of her still held onto the mothering instincts that Honevra had. A part of her still watched as Lotor grew, as he fought his way through the many training courses that Zarkon had set up. Every day, he was trained on ships, how to fly them and build them and fight in them; he was taught the history of the Galra, the way Zarkon wanted it taught; he was taught the art of swordsmanship, of hand-on-hand combat, and various other forms of combat and science. Whatever the allergy to quintessence was, it only ever seemed to affect him if he ate an unnatural amount of it. 

One day, while having a very rare meal with both Zarkon and Lotor, that small part of Haggar that was still Honevra noticed something in Lotor that was different than the other Galra she had seen over the past few years, since their planet had been destroyed. Irises and pupils. Lotor’s eyes were not a solid yellow, but had blue irises. And that’s when she knew, when that part of her that was still fighting the corruption of the Quintessence, that Lotor might just be the one to save them. Maybe there was still hope of restoring peace in this universe. 

And that night, as she walked the halls of the ships, unable to stay asleep for a full night. She found herself outside the door that lead to Lotor’s room. Entering in, she found her son stretched out in bed, white hair fanning over the pillow and mouth slightly open as he slept. He was small, so small. Not even taller than her yet, though she knew he would be tall soon. He would without a doubt be much taller than her when he finished growing. She ran a finger down her son’s face, a few moments of clarity granting her the time she needed.   
“Be brave, my son. It won’t be easy, but no matter what happens, my child, be brave.”


	2. Hairbrushes and Scars

Current Time  
Allura’s POV

Allura wasn’t entirely sure what she expected to find as she wandered the halls of the castle late one night, but it certainly wasn’t what she found. Her own bedroom had a bathroom and shower and all that connected to the room. But where the paladins and other guests were, the bathrooms were down the hall from their rooms. Not too far, of course, and there were doors in each of the paladin’s rooms that lead to a private hall to the bathroom. She heard an irritated growl coming from the room a moment before spotting Lotor’s reflection in the mirror. There was a brush in his hand and he seemed to be struggling to get a knot out of his wet hair. Having thick hair herself, she understood this struggle. Thick hair gets very tangled when its wet. Even more so when said hair is naturally wavy, which Lotor’s was definitely naturally wavy. And apparently, it got wavyer, perhaps even enough to be considered curly, when it was wet. 

Perhaps Allura should have given him one of the rooms more suited for someone of his rank, being that he was technically the emperor of the Galra Empire, but the thought had slipped her mind. The idea of finding out that the world she thought was just a myth was real, and of being gifted all the knowledge that was given to her, she hadn’t quite thought about letting Lotor stay in one of the private rooms. He hadn’t complained about it though. 

Perhaps what made her decide to approach him now was the fact that he was wearing pajamas. He wasn’t wearing armor, and there was no sign of any weapons on him at all. Rather, he was wearing a deep purple bathrobe, black pajama pants that actually seemed a little long, black slippers, and she could see a small part of a black shirt. His wet hair was frizzing in the remnants of the steam from the shower, and a hairbrush was now getting stuck in his hair. It was such a different image than what she was used to seeing him as that it was like looking at an entirely different person. 

“Would you like help with that?” She asked. She must have quieter than she thought, because he actually seemed startled by her sudden question, looking up at her in the mirror. For a second, she was sure he would refuse. For even though he had asked for help in getting his throne and asked for help in getting peace back for his people, he had never exactly asked for ‘help’ directly. He was an independent person, much more so than she had originally thought. She was actually surprised when he nodded.   
“Help would be nice.” He pulled the brush his hair and held it out to her.   
She took it from him. “Let’s go somewhere other than in here. The steam isn’t going to make it any easier, and I have detangler in my room.” 

Without a word, he followed her from the bathroom and she lead him back towards her own bedroom. A part of her said this was a bad idea. She hadn’t known Lotor for very long. Whos to say he wouldn’t betray them and sneak into her room one night to kill her? But then…a part of her knew he wouldn’t do that. No, if Lotor were to betray them, he wouldn’t do it by sneaking around and killing them in their sleep. That simply wasn’t his style. 

Once in her room, she pointed for him to go sit in her desk chair. He looked around curiously, but didn’t touch anything as he made his way to the chair, sitting in it with the grace of a feline. Allura made her way into her private bathroom, where all the cosmetics she had were kept neatly on a revolving shelf in the closet. Granted, most of it was probably well past expired and in need of being thrown out. But there was a whole shelf dedicated to hair supplies. She grabbed the detangler and made her way back out to the main room, where Lotor was picking at a fingernail with the concentration of someone who was clearly trying to find a way to occupy themselves while being mildly uncomfortable in a situation. 

“It smells a little flowery, but it works really well. And should keep it from tangling for a while.” She said, putting some on her hands, rubbing her hands together, and then rubbing it carefully into his hair. “Why were you showering so late?” Perhaps a stupid question, but it was better than the awkward silence that she was sure would fill the room.   
“The paladins don’t exactly enjoy coming out of a shower and seeing me there. I figured it would be best if I waited until they were done.”

She put the brush to his head and started to work on the tangles. “I suppose I should have given you a private room while you’re here.” She admitted. He snorted.   
“I’m just glad I have an actual bed this time. The cell you kept me in only had a rather uncomfortable couch.”   
“That was one of the nicer cells on the ship. The others have a cot, and some have nothing at all to lay on.” 

His hair was very soft, and the detangler was making it even softer. After working through the tangle that he had nearly broken the brush on, she moved on to the rest. The rest wasn’t as tangled, and it wasn’t long before there were no knots at all, but still she kept brushing. He seemed to be enjoying it, almost like he would fall asleep if she kept at it long enough and didn’t say anything.   
“How can I get your paladins to trust me?” He asked after a few minutes of silence.  
“I’m not sure. I guess the most you can do for now is to stay true to your word. Keep working for peace, withdraw your troops from other planets.” She answered. “I was actually thinking of some ways to maybe get people to trust the Galra again. What if we had a ball? We’ll need to find the right place and there are lots of other details to work out, but it would be a good way to show people that you aren’t like Zarkon.”  
She ran her fingers through his hair and moved it to the side to get some of the under layers or it. And that’s when she spotted it. Disappearing under his shirt collar was a pale, raised line, a little rough around the edges. A scar. Without thinking, she ran a finger along it. And Lotor launched himself out of the chair before she could blink, nearly shoving Allura to the ground in the process. He was at the door a second later. 

“Thanks for brushing my hair, but I should leave. It’s getting late.” He said as he left, disappearing through the doorway before she had the chance to reply, before he even had a chance to reply about the suggestion of the ball.

 

Lotor’s POV

Lotor had nearly forgotten what it felt like to have someone else brush his hair. Hell, so much time had been spent recently on simply trying to survive, he had barely brushed his own hair. Granted, he would brush it daily, at least enough to prevent it from forming a giant matt in the back, but it had been a very long time since it was free of all tangles and had that clean feeling. His hair was never greasy, no he took very good care to make sure it was always clean, if not always silky and free of knots. But that deep clean feeling was something he hadn’t felt in a long time. And to have someone else brush it...that was honestly one of the best feelings for anyone with long hair. Ezor especially had loved to brush his hair, back during simpler times when he and his generals were more-or-less on their own. Back before Voltron had first defeated Zarkon. 

Back during those times, when they would be lounging around with not much to do, Exor and Acxa had enjoyed messing with his hair, braiding it or trying to put it up. At first it had annoyed him, but he had soon grown to just accept it and even in time enjoy it. It was oddly soothing. Once he had fallen asleep and woken up to find his hair had been tied up and somehow made to stay up and in the shape of giant fluffy ears, and an obnoxiously tall mohawk down of the center. That had taken hours to undo, and the girls had kept photo’s of it for blackmail for quite some time. 

Having someone brush his hair for him again was amazing. But then she had touched that scar, and the memory had been like lightning through his head and he panicked, rushing from the seat and out of the room before she would have the chance to see the fear that no doubt was plastered over his face. That scar was one of many crisscrossing his back, and the memory of how they came to be was one of the memories he kept buried deep inside. He kept them hidden, covered, and out of sight. It was part of why his hair was always down; it covered the few scars that poked over the collar of looser shirts. With any luck, she’ll forget about it by morning. And if not, hopefully she wouldn’t question him about it either. Acxa had known about them, had been there when they were made. But besides her, none of his generals knew about them and he wasn’t about to share the story with Allura and her paladins. 

Before that, she had suggested the Ball. He had never been to a Ball before. He had spent his whole life training for combat and strategy, some history and politics. Never had he been taught the more civil aspects of ruling an Empire or being a prince. Sure, he could give a pretty speech and get people to follow him. But dance? He had never danced in his life. He didn’t even know how.


	3. Chapter 2: From the Eyes of an Uncle

**Coran's POV**

Allura had been born in a time of peace. Granted, things had begun to get tense, as Honerva and Zarkon chased impossible dreams of quintessence, but it was peace nonetheless. She had been raised by loving parents, taught the pleasures of royal life. She had spent many days with friends, laughing, dancing, playing with others her age. Then her mother had died, giving birth to a stillborn. There had been nothing that could be done, not with any amount of knowledge or science, and the whole kingdom and many others had grieved for what was lost. 

 

As time went on, she had recovered from the loss, and life continued. As the war inched closer and tensions grew, she learned a little of the less pleasurable parts of being a princess. Being that she was next in line to take the throne, her father stressed that it was important to learn how to lead people in more than dances and sing alongs. So she learned how to fight with various weapons, how to maneuver a ship through a battlefield, how to quickly and efficiently move around armies to best ensure a victory. Her father and himself had taught her firmly but happily, kindly. They didn’t forget how to laugh, no matter how things got.  

 

And perhaps, Coran thought, that had been what made the difference between her and Lotor. He sat at his desk in his own room, looking at images on a screen pass by of the days before the war. Coran and Alfor had been friends for many, many years. Brothers in all the ways that count. He had been there while Allura had grown up, watched her turn from the squirming little infant into the woman she was today, and he was as proud as if she was his own. 

 

Coran had seen a great many children grow up. And he had met a great many people, all of whom had different upbringings. Zarkon had been raised well, at least by his mother. His father had been cold and unloving, but his mother had made up for it. And yet, Zarkon had been corrupted and poisoned. Honerva had been raised right as well, by two very loving parents who supported her in all her dreams. Yet the Quintessence had poisoned her mind. Coran wasn’t sure exactly when Lotor was born, as the war had already been started by that point, but thinking back, he found he didn’t hate the Zarkon’s son. 

 

They had spent many days chasing Lotor, trying to stop him. While they hadn’t exactly said it...they had been wanting to kill him. Now, Coran still didn’t trust Lotor fully. But...but maybe he could learn to. Nothing he had said had been false yet, and he had done nothing to show any shady motives. 

 

He remembered the day after they left the White Hole. Coran had been wandering the castle aimlessly, lost in thought, and had found Lotor in the library. The library had not been used in a very long time. Finding the door open, Coran had looked inside and saw Lotor curled on a couch with a book in his lap. His head was dipped, and the book was drooping. It was obvious that he was fallen asleep. There was a peacefulness about the scene, and Coran moved forward slowly, peeking over Lotor’s shoulder to see what he was reading. Mostly to make sure it wasn’t anything that could prove to be dangerous. But no, Coran recognized the title. It was some fictional adventure book, about an the 3rd son of an Altean Queen, who since he would never have the throne had set off to explore the universe and in the process, met some friends and helped save a bunch of random villages along the way. 

 

There was a lot more detail to it, obviously, but Coran couldn’t remember the whole thing. Allura had told Coran had Lotor had said he had wanted to be an explorer. Perhaps, reading had been the only way he could explore while he was a child. He had left the half-breed sleeping on the couch, not wanting to disturb him. 

 

Coran flipped the screen in his room off, and made his way to his own bed, wondering what kind of a childhood Lotor had had and what kind of person he was because it. But the only way to find out would be to wait it out and see what he did. 


End file.
